


Faithless Wanderer

by CrabSecura



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied Master/Padawan Relationship(s), Jedi, Jedi Code, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Master Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrabSecura/pseuds/CrabSecura
Summary: "She had used a lightsaber once. The remnants from old burns still litter her body- a reminder of her mistakes. Master Tiris would scold her for her blunders but he’d always bandage her wounds with the upmost of care. She still had her lightsaber. Rona wondered if she would still fear the blue crackle of heat as it ignited to life within her hands.It called to her, spoke a name she hadn’t heard in years. Naya...ThrustParryRiposte"The story of Padawan Naya Corona, a survivor of the Jedi order. OC Master/ OC Padawan





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a fucking full length novel, I don't do shit by halves. I've had this idea in my head for years now and just have to get it out. It's a slow build between master/padawan so hold on in there. I love the Jedi so much and they honestly don't get enough credit as being badass. The majority of the story is set about ten years before Rogue One and I started writing this waaay before Rogue One came out. Comment , I always appreciate long as its positive. Ahaha jk. Nah seriously I'm a positive reinforcement whore. Anyway, enjoy reading.

_The helmet was heavy, a burden on her shoulders, weighed down by the metal. Her vision was hidden behind the instrument used for padawan learner, her blue eyes, which she relied on, blocked by the blast shield._

_‘See with the force’ he keeps on repeating as she gets stun by the robotic mechanism in front of her, like ant bites all over her body. Wildly, she swings her lightsaber around, trying to defend herself from the jabs of pain, but with no avail are her efforts. She was losing._

_“I can’t, Master! I tried and I tried like you said but it’s not working…” She grumbled, taking off her helmet and chucking it to the ground with a thud. Her tangled hair hid her face from view and she frowned at her lightsaber, the matted brown wisp’s shivering as she shook her head in disproval. Her childish features scrunched as she wiped the sweat from her brow, her pale skin glistening in the light._

_Her master sighed, “Naya Corona, you need to use the force. Feel it running through you…. Don’t think, feel.”_

_“Yes, master.” She complied with a grunt of impatience, putting the hunk of metal back on top of her head as she drew her lightsaber, the blue flash of energy appearing before her, under her control, unbeknown to her how much power she possesses if she just sensed the force in her movements._

_“Now, let’s try again.”_

* * *

Her arms ached, her legs ached, and even her ribs ached. The weight of her robes weighed her down as she walked through the Jedi temple on Coruscant, trying to escape another brutal training and meditation session courtesy of her master. Her legs felt like they would collapse on her if she took just another step, but the thought of getting to her chambers to rest in her bed made her walk that much faster.  Her feet dragged with every step on the ground and her boots course from the strain of training. Blisters littered her small feet and she hissed in pain with each step she took.

Her shoulder was abruptly slammed into the wall to her right, inflicting more pain to the strained muscle.  She snarled at the unexpected contact, snapping her neck to look at the being that inflicted the pain.

“Watch where you’re going, human.” Grunted the Fondorian padawan, grasping her by the hood of her robe as he sneered, his grey eyes glaring down at her.

“Get off me, Danhai.” Naya growled. His head hairless and his eyes pale, Danhai, was an extremely intelligent and regal being who believed himself to be smarter than any other species in the galaxy. He was large and well-toned who could beat anyone with brute force, as well as an obnoxious git.

With a sneer, he dropped her to the floor. Her body crumbled as fatigue finally settled in, her body curled into a fetal position to prevent any further damage to her person.

“Pathetic Neanderthal.” He hissed as he nudged her in the back with his boot, shaking his head in disgust. He turned on his heels, walking back the way he came, away from the timid young padawan. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and looked around for any sign of danger. She lifted herself up from the floor, gingerly. Pushing on the palms of her hand; she reduced herself to a sitting position.

She sat there for what seemed years. All the time that she had been at the Jedi temple, she had never made a friend. Not one. Not that close relationships were encouraged. She looked at the metal plated doors opposite her, the doors to the Jedi council; a place which she was never welcome. All the times that she had been overlooked by master after master, trying to find one which would take her as their padawan.

She had ended up with Jedi Master Alton Tiris, a Jedi Morellian from the planet Morellia. Old of age for a human, but young of face. A rash and harsh master of the force and talented swordsman, Tiris was a Jedi supporting the fiery red hair typical of his race. His locks was short and cropped, though rugged with vigor. His eyes were a deep brown, capable of seeing through anyone and any lies. Though, she doubted that, as his mind tricks didn’t work on her, not since she was only 10 years of age and a lot has changed since those days.

She has grown; her mid-length nimble brown hair was down to her waist if loose. But now, it was in a bun on top of her head, she had a padawan braid running down the length of her waist, plaited and finished off with a pink ribbon tied in a bow, a piece of material she was given from her master on her last birthday. The gift had been odd, since she didn’t think he remembered the date of her birth. Thoroughly surprised with the gift, she had been left speechless as he walked away. Out of all of the years of being his apprentice, he had never gifted her with something so precious. He had a way of confusing her; one day he would be cold and distant towards her, the next he would do something that made her feel as if she meant something to him.

She smiled at the memory; her hands now increasingly cold as the day receded and night took its place. The temperature dropped and her body started to shiver. She sat there, unwilling to move. She was happy just watching the world go by, being lost in her thoughts was one of the pleasures of life.

Naya rested her head against the stone wall, listening carefully to the world around her. Muffled sounds were coming from the council room opposite and she inched closer when she recognise the voices.

_“The issue is that she has no patience… I don’t understand why you asked me to take her on, master.”_ the voice which the words belonged to was deep and rough, though soft to certain ears who knew him well. Naya frowned at the sound of her master’s voice talking in such a hushed manner and listened closer. “ _I’m one hundred and fifty years old, master, I’m in a Morellians prime; why do you not wish me to train someone who has potential? The girl is thirteen years old and still shows no strong connection with the force. She is rash and impatient; intolerance and panic flows through her and I fear the worst. You know what happened to my last padawan, she is just as weak willed as him.”_

_“Learned, is patience. Yet to learn patience, the young one has.”_ The distinctive voice belonged to the inimitable Master Yoda.  The voice was distorted and fragmented, a hologram since Master Yoda was on Kashyyyk helping his long-term allies, the Wookiees.

_“I’ve taught her everything I know, but still she is showing no progress.” He hurried, “If she is no longer my padawan, someone else may be able to teach her. They may be able to get through to her, though she probably would have been best suited to the agricultural corps.”_

_“Not strong with the force, she is. Hmm? A reason I told you to train her, there is. Potential, she has.”_

_“What do you mean, Master Yoda?”_

_“Only time will tell.”_

_“But Master Yoda-”_ The transmission went dead as Tiris protested in vain. He sighed and ran a calloused hand over his tired face and threaded it into his matted locks. He tugged at his red hair before letting his hand fall limply at his side. Locking his hands together inside his sleeves, he walked out of the room, the metal doors sliding with a click behind him indicating his departure.

“You don’t mean that do you?”

Tiris halted suddenly, looking around for the source of the question. He saw Naya huddled in the corner, her Jedi robes acting as a blanket to shield her from the cold. Tears pooled in her eyes are she look up at her master, hurt and betrayal echoed through their weak telepathic master-apprentice bond. A tear escaped her eye. Her bottom lip quivered. _Control your emotions,_ her master would usually say, but now she found she didn’t want to listen to any excuses her master may conjure up.

“Listen, padawan…”

She shook her head in refusal. Small feet were pounding against the ground before he could finish his sentence, a flood of tears threatening to spill from Naya’s eyes as the wind flew through her hair. The girl ran out of the Jedi temple, through towards the bustling streets of Coruscant. She remember uttering apologies as she collided with people in her urgent need to flee. Remembered tears clouding her vision as she pushed through the onslaught on bodies, sweaty despite the coldness in the air. She recalled not turning back to look at the Jedi temple, not yet willing to forgive her master for his harsh words.

Only when she did eventually stop for breath did she realise she was barefoot; her thin training shoes must have fallen off in her haste. She felt exhausted and slid up against the nearest wall, leaning against it as her legs gave out. Naya fell to the floor, tears which threatened to drop before finally being released. Her chest heaved. She sobbed, drawing her dark brown robe over her small form, shielding all her features except for the top of her quivering head. She looked more like a small beggar than a Jedi padawan. Unnoticed and unidentifiable by all of the pedestrians who walked past. A quality which, later, would be most valuable.

She felt something hit her knee and she begrudgingly lifted her head up, wiping her face before looking at her surroundings. A few credits had been dropped by her feet. She picked up the thin metal, twirling it between her fingers. Money has no use to a Jedi, nor do materialistic items. Jedi were minimalists, vanity and egotism led to corruption.

She sighed, knowing she had to get back to the temple. It was her turn to look over a few designated younglings. The children taken before they develop an emotional attachment to their parents - they are then trained by the Jedi to love things compassionately, but not become attached to them. She had to change nappies and give bottles. The masters believed this is how some of the padawan’s learned responsibility and how to protect, one of the main steps of the padawan trials. Though she didn’t mind this chore, the younglings are usually the best company that she could ask for. Especially one in particular, a little Cathar called Handa. She remembered their first encounter; how easy the little cub had clawed her way into Naya’s heart.

_She has just finished a meditation session with Master Tiris, her mind had failed to go completely into a calm trance and she had found her body to be restless throughout the reflection. Tiris had asked her to lift a small metal globe in his palm using the force, and she had failed to do so. So he had sent her off to sleep and reflect upon her actions, or lack thereof. She walked with her eyes closed, trying to centre her mind, using the techniques that had been ingrained within her impatient brain. Her feet caught on something and she stumbled, suddenly opening her eyes. Naya looked around before her eyes fell upon a figure below her. Big green eyes stared expectantly back up at her, cat-like eyes wide with anticipation. It dawned upon Naya that this young girl was of the species Cathar; a species of feline, bipedal humanoids native to the planet _ _Cathar **.**___ _They were known for their loyalty, passion, and temper. Quick and powerful, they were considered great warriors and dedicated, efficient predators, though this youngling didn’t look capable to harm with her glazed over stare and wide eyes._

_“Who you?” She timidly asked, her hand reaching out to the humans robes for comfort._

_“My name’s Naya. What’s yours, young one?”_

_“Handa.”_

_“What a pretty name.” The padawan praised. Naya looked around for the youngling’s minder, aware that it was rather late for such a young child to be left alone._

_“You’re pretty.” The feline youngling pulled at Naya’s robe, playing with the material like it was a ball of string._

_“Come on, Handa. We need to get you back inside before you catch a cold.” Naya scolded as the Cathar began to shiver, still not quite used to the drastic temperature change from her native planet._

_The youngling held out her arms expectantly, not shifting as Naya began to walk off, expecting the child to follow. With a sigh, Naya picked up the cub, hoisting the little one up with strong arms. Handa snuggled into the warmth of Naya’s cloak, putting her arms around Naya’s neck with a purr of contentment._

_The padawan smiled at the child, now understanding how difficult it will be to accept that she can never have children of her own; it was the Jedi code, and rules must be obeyed if one wants to be a Jedi._

_The child had golden skin with dark stripes, though her green eyes were now closed from exhaustion. She carried the child in her arms, the youngling now fast asleep, and a quiet snore repeating in Naya’s ears with every breath. Naya walked to the rooms where the younglings resided, hoping to find someone who can help her with the child._

_“_ _Handa!” A voice came rushing over, belonging to a young man, most likely a Jedi Knight since he had no padawan braid._

_“I think this young one need’s to get some sleep.” He spoke as Handa yawned, her tiny fangs showing with the movement. Naya passed the Cathar to the Jedi, being careful not to awaken the cub further. “Thank you, she keeps on running off.”_

_“Of course.” Naya bowed and left with a quick glance back, smiling on the inside when the Cathar began playing with the Jedi Knight’s hair._

Naya shook her head, clearing her mind of the memory. In the hours she had spent alone, she was beginning to forgive her master. Despite his harsh words, she never wanted to stay angry at him; there were people far more cruel who deserved her concealed anger. She could see the outline of the Jedi temple in the distance and faint line of smoke was coming from the building, though she thought nothing of it. She kept her head down, making herself seem as small as possible. Still looking like a beggar on the streets, but now a moving beggar.

She let her feet drag as she walked back to her quarters, her lightsaber clunking against her hip as she ambled through the corridors. She took a back entrance into the Temple, one not many knew of and even fewer used. It was a disused sewer tunnel that started about a mile away from the temple and led to near her quarters. She knew she would have to face Master Tiris, but wanted to prolong it as much as possible. She hummed absentmindedly to herself, jumping onto the water fountain just outside of her dormitory and trod lightly across the stone as if she was on a tightrope. One foot in front of the other with her arms outstretched to keep her balance, the cold suddenly didn’t seem to bite at her skin anymore; it was only a cool breeze that brushed over exposed arms, a breeze not violent enough to chill as most of the temple was heated. She jumped down from the fountain, skipping back to her quarters to gather a change of clothes before her duties, humming a tune mindlessly to herself.

All of a sudden, she stopped dead in her tracks. Something felt uneasy in the force, like a nagging sensation which made her gut churn in apprehension. It was too quite; the air had gone too still. Stagnant. She couldn’t feel the usual light hum of the force which emitted from all of the Jedi’s in the temple.

She recoiled as the eerie feeling became stronger, frozen in place with her eyes wide and her heart fast. She turned and ran as fast she could to the youngling’s dormitories where she knew a Jedi Knight or Master would be. She wanted the safety of a Jedi by her side. She tried to pry inside her head at the weak bond with her master, the need to communicate her uneasiness becoming stronger each passing minute. She couldn’t quite reach it, the few strands which linked them appeared translucent, as if they had been severed. Blind panic urged her forward.

She took the stone steps two at a time, she stumbled and staggered but didn’t stop running, and her breathing was heavy as she came up outside the youngling’s dormitories. She lurched inside, but bile rose in her throat at what she saw. There, on the floor, were the mangled corpses of many children and Jedi Masters, sprawled out with horror branded onto their faces. Scorch marks scattered the floor and littered the bodies.

Her breath caught in her throat, tears filled her eyes when she noticed Handa on the floor beside her bed, her eyes open and her mouth agape in, a child-like innocence crowded her features, her porcelain face resembled a china doll, though her body resembled a rag doll; her limbs thrown in all directions with her legs bent and her arms turned inwards. Naya cried out, her hand covering her mouth. The cool air brushed against her scorching skin, burning her eyes as tears fell from them. A helpless whisper fell from her lips, _no, no, no, no._ Bile rose in her gullet. She gagged dryly.

She reached out to touch Handa’s body, almost believing it wasn’t there. That this was some illusion, some horrid nightmare. But the solid proof was there when her fingertip felt the ice cold skin of Handa’s cheek. She reeled back.

The force almost screamed at her, _Coruscant isn’t safe anymore. Run._

So she did.

Again her memory became fragmented as she ran through the streets of Coruscant, tears blurring her vision. The absolute panic urging her onwards, the force blocking any pain from her scraped and torn feet. The beggar was running again, so no one paid any attention to it.

She followed the direction the force pushed her.

She bumped into someone, a stranger whoever so happened to be wearing a dark black coat. She took it from him with one swift stroke, her nimble fingers and quick reflexes making it easy to commit the theft. The cloak hid her lightsaber and her Padawan attire from sight but did not hide the tears that stained her cheeks. Naya still had the few credits that had been thrown at her but they would not get her far.

She felt the need to flee, to get as far away from this planet as possible.

So she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naya's story continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have no idea what to title my chapters as so if you have any suggestions, I'd appreciate them. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and please comment.

Her hands were sore. Her knuckles were dry and cracked, slits opening to reveal the rouge blood beneath. Coarse palms were under the running tap, rubbing ferociously at the large pan she was currently cleaning with a dirty dishcloth. Water splashed upon her apron and the soap suds made her knuckles sting, though she was accustomed to the sharp tingle and welcomed it; a reminder that she was still able to feel, even if it was pain. She'd been working at the Smugglers Inn for a few years now, the menial job earning her a few credits to survive on- the bare minimum. She did not live a life of luxury, that had not change since her days at the temple. She can't believe it's been ten years.

She shook her head, no point thinking of the past- nothing can change what happened. Nothing can change that she'd lost everything. That she had to leave herself in the past, had to move on and adapt. Had to live a lie to survive.

"Rona, can you clean these up for me?"

"Sure." Naya -Rona- smiled up at Riesa as she passed her three large drinking glasses, the last dregs of the alcoholic beverage clinging to the bottom of the glass.

"I finally got that rowdy mob out of here half an hour after closing time, can you believe the cheek? The ugly one was staring to get handsy." Riesa imitated a gagging motion as she flicked her shoulder length blonde hair out of her face. She was a Hapan who saw most men beneath her, especially the intoxicated ones. The bar was located on Dantooine within the outer rim territory. It sat in the middle of a remote village, there wasn't many people but it was quiet; where the Galactic Empire couldn't touch it and Rona liked that. It meant it was easier to forget.

The bar was forged form curved edges, the centrepiece was where the liquor was served and where Rona was currently located. The smooth surface of the tables circling the bar gave the impression they were made from metal, but both Rona and Riesa knew they were cheap plastic; Mr Obarel didn't like to spend money where it was necessary needed. And that included his employees pay check as well. The pub was small but cosy to an extent, the two barmaids lived in the back of the building and Mr Obarel lived in the upstairs area with his son, Galvin. Together the four ran the bar. Galvin was the antithesis to Mr Obarel; he was slim and tall with a kind, sharp face. He would allow the girls to have extra scraps from the leftovers and to have extra blankets on a cold night. While Obarel had a persistent haughty expression and whose stomach covered most of his legs, he did had moments of kindness. Where his natural malevolence would falter but most of the time he enjoyed making life difficult for the girls.

"Ladies, we have a few people coming in for a meeting in half an hour." Galvin said as he stood straight from where he was bending over collecting glasses from tables.

Rona glanced out the window; the dark night shining back at her, casting shadow upon the once bright fields of green. "But its past closing time, sir." She stated.

"That's quite enough lip from you girl." Mr Obarel spat out, "The customers will out the back in the overflow seating area as they have important issues to discuss. I only need one of you girls to serve them. Riesa come with me." He marched away, leaving Riesa to follow him hesitantly, who casted an apologetic sidelong glance at the other barmaid.

Rona clenched her jaw, taking a large breath as she released her emotions with a huff. Obarel's disregard for her wasn't worth getting angry over.

Galvin walked up to her and quirked a remorseful but dismissive smile, her patted her on the shoulder, "Probably best that you get to bed."

She nodded in reluctant agreement.

Her feet dragged with every step she took across the stone floor as she walked to her bedroom. Her small personal area was confined to a corner of the building. It was sparsely furnished with a few personal items, though most of the items that littered the floor was Riesa's. A bunkbed was situated in the far right corner of the room, the top bunk belonged to Rona and the bottom was Riesa's.

She took out her hair from the bun atop her head, a small plait trailed down from just below her ear- a reminder that she couldn't quite part with. Yawning, she stretched out her back and neck and changed into her night clothes. She cast a look of longing to the room adjacent to hers, wishing for the small amount of excitement within her life that would come from listening in to the secret meeting. She guessed she'd have to wait for Riesa to tell her excitedly about it in the morning.

She pulled herself up the small ladder and fell into bed with a loud exhale. She allowed her eyes to close before she realised that the bright candle still flickered with life in the opposite side of the room. She wave her hand and the flame sputtered out, the force flowing through her veins freely; giving her strength in her inner peace. Wouldn't Tiris be proud she had finally mastered her weaknesses. All it took was losing everything.

There he was in her dreams again.

Red hair vibrant but his face was eclipsed in shadow, it had been so long since seeing him in person that her mind struggled to recall what he looked like. She remembered the long, rugged mop of tresses that contrasted with his clean appearance. Brown robes were once wrapped securely around his strong frame; he rarely took off the tan cloak but when he did it was to spar in his dense Jedi robes.

But here he stood in her illusion; pale arms wrapped in clean, cream bandages, feet bare with light cotton trousers dusting his ankles. His tunic was a dark tan and wrapped around his torso, it was tight fitting but malleable which allowed his body to move alongside the gentle arc of his lightsaber, following the footwork of his sparring kata. Before she knew it, she had joined him and was mirroring his actions with movements of her own. In these dreams, it was as if her body was not her own. She was weightless, the force guided her actions and her lightsaber was wielded was professional precision. Her feet moved against her will to spar with her Master, teaching her what he was not able to demonstrate in person.

She awoke in the morning, feeling more exhausted than when she had gone to bed. For a moment, her heart jumped with a flicker of hope that it was her Master breathing shallowly in the cusp of sleep within the bunk below her. But it was Riesa… and he was dead. Her training bond dissolved the day he died, they day they all died. She rubbed her palms into her drained eyes, trying to repress the inevitable headache that was swiftly approaching. The dreams had felt so real. She knew her connection with the force was growing stronger and stronger after every irrepressible visit from her deceased Master, akin to a rose growing in a desert; beautiful but unnecessary, a fleeting life that would eventually end in its demise. If she was exposed as being force sensitive… It wouldn't end well.

A harsh banging on the door juddered Rona from her thoughts. "Get up! Time for work!" Mr Obarel bellowed from behind the door. The sun had only just broken through the dark clouds of night but she knew she had to get supplies for the day.

The marketplace wasn't too far from The Smugglers Inn; it was about a twenty minute walk, in which Rona was thankful for the peace it gave her. The path she strolled through was densely populated with Dantooine's native trees. This is where she felt most alive; the animals filled the void of silence with their chatter and Rona hummed a tune to accompany the symphony of sound.

She picked up a long stick that was in her way but looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. Quickly, she swung the stick in a swift arc, testing out the weight of the branch with a precise movement of her wrist. She laughed quietly to herself, feeling a freedom that she hadn't felt in years. She felt a wash of emotion flow through her as she danced and skipped lightly, a smile blossomed on her face as he slashes become quicker and more defined. Her steps light as she thrusted parried and riposted against an imaginary opponent, letting the force guide her at will; a trust that was rapidly growing into fruition.

She had used a lightsaber once, not often when she was younger as she was clumsy and inaccurate- her desire to win consuming her knowledge of how to. The remnants from old burns still litter her body- a reminder of her mistakes. She recalled that he'd scold her if she had make a mistake but he'd always bandage her wounds with the upmost of care. She still had her lightsaber, though it's hidden away. The only valuable possession she has left. It hasn't been touched in years though on occasions like this she wishes she could practice with the real thing instead of a stick. She wondered if she would still fear the blue crackle of heat as it ignited to life within her hands.

It called to her, spoke a name she hadn't heard in years. _Naya...Naya…Naya_

Thrust

Parry

Riposte

"Rona!"

Gasping, she immediately dropped the stick as if it had burned her. Stones and stray tree bark that were orbiting the hard ground dropped suddenly. She hadn't realised she'd done that. _Kriffing hell_. Her head whipped around and her body soon followed. Her heart was beating rapidly and her hands were becoming clammy as she searched for the source of the sound. Riesa appeared through the tree line, the morning sun illuminating her silhouette and giving her blonde hair an ethereal quality. Rona let out a sigh of relief.

Rona tried to act as neutral as possible whilst Riesa ran up to her. She had a contagious smile on her face which Rona swiftly returned, Riesa opened her mouth to speak as she nudged Rona's shoulder. "I thought I'd walk with you on the way, I've just got to spill the beans about what I overheard at the meeting last night. Apparently they were with the rebel alliance! Can you believe that? The word is that there's a rebel base on Dantooine and that they're looking for new recruits!" The blonde said excitedly, jumping on the balls of her feet with each step.

Hope filled Rona's heart and she almost recoiled from the sudden, overwhelming feeling. It lodged somewhere at the base of her throat, making it hard to breathe.

Riesa frowned at the closed-off expression of her friend, "Hey, babe, what's wrong?"

"Oh n- nothing, I just didn't realise there was a group against the Empire."

"Yeah they're growing rapidly in numbers, some people are starting to think they may stand a chance against the Order. Obarel says the people are coming back tonight to finalise things in the meeting." She glanced at Rona with a shy smile, "Can you imagine if I joined them, Rona? I'd finally be doing something with my life." She looked wistfully up towards the sky before shaking her head.

"Speaking of my boring life, I've got a list of things we have to collect." Riesa took out a small piece of paper from her dress pocket and began reading. "Fodu, Green fire sauce, Melahnese, Root Leaf Stew…"

Rona's mind became unfocused as Riesa continued to list items. For once, she had the urge to make a decision, yet she didn't fully comprehend what for.

* * *

Her back was beginning to ache from serving customers all day, not being allowed the chance to sit down and giver her tender muscles the well-deserved rest they required. She was tasked with setting up the meeting room. Food was to be served so she set down plates as well as cutlery and placed a wine glass on the table for every seat that was around the circular slab of secretly-plastic-metal.

The room was lit by candle light as the sun gently set, the last vestiges of sunlight casting the room in an ambient red glow before settling into darkness. She noticed Mr Obarel standing in the doorway, inspecting Rona's work with a critical eye and a curled lip of dissatisfaction.

"Sir, who is going to serve them drinks tonight?" She approached the subject gingerly, hesitantly stepping forward.

"Galvin." He eyed her suspiciously before raining an eyebrow and dismissing her from the room with a jerk of his chin and a small, sharp upward nod of his head.

Resigned, she moved to exit the room before halting in the doorframe. "Sir, can I ask, would you let me help Galvin with the drink's tonight?"

"No." He allowed no room for negotiation.

"But, sir, I would like to serve them tonight-" Obarel halter her abruptly by grasping her face in-between his plump thumb and forefinger, squeezing her cheeks to a level bordering on painful. The claw-like grip froze her speech, dry knuckles dusted with blue veins bulging prominently against the clammy skin. The backs of his hands were mottled with age spots and his nails drastically needed to be clipped. She felt an overwhelming urge to fight back, to remove the hand that dared touch her. Subjugation didn't suit her.

"I don't give a shit what you would like to do, you insolent little harpy." Subversion was a quality that Obarel had restricted. His grip tightened. "If you dare question my judgement one more time then you're out of here, girl, and can go back to begging on the streets like the scum you are. Bantha fodder is worth more than you are **.** "

That hurt more than any physical violence could have achieved. He released her face with a shove. She recoiled but set her jaw when she noticed Obarel's smug satisfaction.

She sucked in a breath, squaring her shoulders, "I will serve them tonight."

His eyes went wide with rage and leant down to invade her personal space within a hairbreadth from Rona's face. His breath was pungent. "What did you just say t-

"You _will_ allow me to serve them tonight." She waved her hand sharply in front of his face, the force pushing through his child-like mental barriers and invadings mind. It instantly conceded to the suggestion like a duck to water.

"I will allow you to serve them tonight." The fight drained from his expression.

"Step away from me."

He took a few steps backwards obediently. She scoffed at the simplicity of his mind "Thank you." Smiling sweetly, she walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to BETA this shit then feel free to drop me a message. Thanks for reading! Comment and Kudos. Imma finish this shit but I may do it quicker if there's people interested. LOL Grandma Crab


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering what Tiris should look like, just picture Domhnall Gleeson. Apologies for the delayed reply but hope this 3000 word chapter makes up for it. I know the first introduction to new characters is difficult to read and to remember who they are so thank you for being so patient with me, Grandma Crab appreciates it.

A soft breeze brushed over her face as she looked out in the distance; barren fields surrounded the building, holding the remains of last season’s crops. It was sunset. Rona watched with an unwavering gaze as the fiery blood-red globe was gently eclipsed with shadows, caressing it as it sank beneath the horizon. This was when the day felt most brightest, when the threads of light lingered in the sky, mingling with the rolling clouds, dyeing the heavens first orange, then red. She always liked the colour red. She closed her eyes, bathing in the amber light for a moment longer.

The warm sensation calmed her like a deep embrace. With a reluctant sigh, she returned back to work, grabbing the remaining empty glasses from the tables outside. Her eyes spared one last glance at the warm sky.

A sharp spike of force energy suddenly hit her body, dousing her in a cold sweat and sending shivers down her spine to then rest at the base of her feet. It remained there. Dull. Thudding. Ominous. The calmness she had found moments ago quickly replaced with dread.

_Something doesn’t feel right._

Somehow- Somehow it felt as if another pair of eyes were looking at the sun and thinking the same.

Clenching her jaw, she headed back inside.

* * *

Rona manoeuvred her body around the hoard of people in the main body of the pub, attempting to usher them. Again the patrons had overstayed their welcome, feigning ignorance when Rona informed them they had to leave. Patience had never been her biggest virtue.

Her body thrummed with nervous anticipation. A sinking feeling resided low in her gut, making her body feel heavy and slow. The nervous energy which pulsed around her body didn’t help set aside her uneasiness. It took her another fifteen minutes for the room to be empty and by that time her hands itched to do more than just carry glasses.

“They’re in the back, you can go serve them now.” Obarel came up to her and stated in a bored monotonous voice, indicating with his head to the room behind him. A crumb stuck to his upper lip, she had noticed the stray piece of food a few hours earlier. It was a persistent little bugger, much like its owner. She quickly prevented her lip from curling in distaste.

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, gingerly moving to the side of him so she could pass. He moved his body to block her path and she had to desist from clicking her tongue in annoyance. “Sir?”

“I don’t know what possessed me to agree to this, girl, but you will be on your best behaviour tonight. Do you understand? They are paying me a lot of money to conduct things _discretely_ and I will not lose them as loyal customers because of an incompetent servant.  Now I expect a response when I ask this time Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” She replied, keeping her eyes down casted in feigned subservience. Warm breath caressed her cheek and she hastily repressed a shudder of revulsion.

“Shh.” He made a snapping motion with his hand, pinching his plump fingers together directly in front of her eyes.  “I don’t want to hear you utter a word tonight, do you understand?”

She nodded quickly. He tilted her chin up with his thumb “Good girl,” and allowed her to pass him by stepping aside.

She felt like she had a bad taste in her mouth, her tongue was dry and her teeth itched to be bared. She felt the desire to scratch raw the place he had touched with her jagged fingernails but she distracted herself from it by using her hand to open the door instead.

The roar of laughter and loud discourse was almost overwhelming when she stepped into the room. She had expected a quiet meeting filled with serious and senior men but it appeared that it was actually a rather casual affair.

Her lips quirked minutely, allowing herself to relax.

She walked silently into the room, fidgeting with a loose thread from her apron as she observed the surroundings around her. There were ten people in total exhibiting a diverse range of humanoid life, some were even species she couldn’t even attempt to name. At the head of the table sat a woman, her brown boots slung carelessly on the table top. Her skin was a dark chocolate brown that glowed with radiance as she laughed while animatedly talking to a male Twi'lek to her right. He had vivid blue skin with a red headband wrapped securely around his forehead, pushing his Lekku behind his shoulders.

On the woman’s other side was a male Togruta who was reclined casually in his chair with a black jacket slung around his shoulders. His skin was a burnt orange with very little white facial pigment, small but shapely Montrals spurted from upon his head and the Lekku that grew from the crown of his skull was ringed with blue. One Lek was draped around his front onto his chest whilst the other was slung behind his shoulder. Only then did Rona realise he was looking at her. Actually they all were. She swiftly halted her observations of all the participants in the room.

She cleared her throat, swallowing quickly, “What drinks can I get everyone?”

* * *

The night had gone smoothly so far, everyone seemed to be in high spirits. Rona had walked brusquely to and fro from the meeting room to the bar to gather drinks for everyone. To her disappointment she had overheard very little.

Her steps skirted around the edge of the room, hands holding bowls of fresh produce that she was to scatter about the table. Rona noticed a gold splash of some sort of residue on the tablecloth. She used her index finger and thumb to pick it up, thinking it to be a crumb of discarded food. However, it glided into the air like a rain droplet defying gravity. Only then did she notice that the room was suddenly filled with gold branches of light flowing similar to waves in the ocean. Force energy curled around the occupants in the room like a favoured pet around their feet; gentle and comforting but a reminder to mind your step lest it trips you up. The force in itself is never a dangerous thing, it’s those who wield it that can change its purpose. What she saw was tendrils of gold light flickering around the bodies of the people, it felt familiar- like a comforting presence. An old friend.

The people in the room weren’t force sensitive, that much was apparent, but yet the strings of energy still lingered. However there was one occupant which the light didn’t touch, the person on the far right in the centre of the large table with the dark red hair who was talking vigorously with the people around her. _How odd_. She blinked, withdrawing from the force, and the gold energy was gone.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” A voice tugged her from her reverie and she quickly remembered her instructions to not be a cause for distraction. It was the woman at the head of the table who had spoken, the one that effortlessly projected an impression of authority. 

“My apologies, its Rona, Ma’am.” She picked up the jug of liquid on the table that the woman was presently drinking, filling up her almost empty glass.

“No need for apologies, Rona, you’re very sweet...” She smiled, her dark skin wrinkling at the corner of her eyes, “My name’s Jamila. My blue friend here is Kuv and the one with the large personality” She indicated to the Togruta who sat silent directing a cold, unwavering glare towards Rona, “is Maakti.”

“Pleasure to meet you all.” Rona dipped her head politely, “Is there anything else I can get you, ma’am?”

“Just Jamila, please. Why don’t you grab and chair and join us, sweetheart?”

“Oh I-I couldn’t possibly-” Rona stuttered.

There was a clutter outside which caused the words to be sucked right back down her throat. The dread she had been experiencing suddenly became a suffocating crescendo constricting her throat, mirroring the sudden beat of her heart and making her short of breath. The door flew off of its hinges and dust and debris made it even more difficult to breathe. Stormtroopers strode in, dragging Mr Obarel helplessly by the scruff of his collar, his knees grinding painfully against the hard floor. “I swear, they’re extended family that has come to visit. Please, you have to believe me.” He babbled, his voice unnaturally high and desperate.

“Silence.” The Stormtrooper with a white Pauldron on their shoulder ordered, its voice devoid of emotion as it shook Obarel crudely. Swiftly, five storm troopers have their weapons aimed at all the inhabitants in the room, ordering them to put their hands above their heads and kneel on the ground.

One person remained standing. Rona’s eyes were drawn to the person she found odd earlier, the woman with the dark auburn hair. The red-head remained still, her eyes widened with panic. Sharply she ran up to Stormtrooper. “I did what you asked for!” She exclaimed, hysteria dampening her voice, “These are the rebels, I promise!”

“Momi!” Jamila shouted, her arm reaching out to defend her comrade but abruptly withdrawing with the feeling of betrayal she was experiencing. _She was the one who had ratted them out._

“I did what you told me to, please, please let my family go- I-I beg you please-please-please-” Momi pleaded with her hands extended towards the masked soldier. A single surge of pain shot through her, and a crimson shot crackled from his blaster. Flesh thudded against stone tile, gasps of shock and outrage deafened the sudden silence. The lifeless body of Momi lay sprawled upon the ground. No one uttered a word. They were shocked into silence.

Rona could feel the disgust radiating off of the Stormtrooper, she didn’t need to see its face to understand that. “Who is in charge?” It questioned.

“I am.” Jamila didn’t hesitate.

“Take her.” It ordered and the Stormtroopers beside it swiftly seized Jamila by the arms, violently drawing her away from the other Rebels.

Rona made a rapid decision. She invaded the mind of the Stormtrooper closest- the leader with the white Pauldron. Manipulating the force to make the procedure quick and efficient.  The Sergeant was the leader of a convoy of six on a simple scouting mission to see where the Rebel Alliance may be located. They only presumed there was a rebel base on Dantooine, they required one of the Rebels with a higher ranking for further interrogation to gather more information. Rona sighed in relief, they weren’t a threat. For now.

She looked around the spacious inner cavities of his mind. The walls were painted white and bare and she was baffled to find that his brain was filled with considerably less knowledge that she had expected. He was so…so _conditioned_ , so _indoctrinated_. _._

She withdrew before he was able to notice the slight pressure. Only a few seconds had passed.

Rona gestured towards the people standing defensively in the room “They are not the people you are looking for. You have made a mistake.” She pushed the suggestion at them, hoping that it was subtle enough to not warrant further investigation.

Evidently it wasn’t.

“Kill the rest.” The Sergeant in white ordered.

She didn’t have long to make a decision, instead relying on pure instinct. She held the bottle by the neck, smashing the bottom of the glass against the table where it was most weakest so that all was left was a jagged edge and effectively sliced it through the carotid artery of the Stormtrooper with the white Pauldron. Blood spurted from the severed jugular, staining the white canvas of his armour red.

The table behind her was flipped as blaster shots fired into the air. Rona slammed her body into the ground, grabbing the discarded blaster from her victim, and began crawling towards the overturned table. Halting, she stared down at her hands. Blood soaked hands. They’re steady, despite the rush of adrenaline that had coursed through her only moments before.

Mr Obarel’s large body blocked her route. She jabbed him in the side with her blaster and gritted out a quick, “Move.” His body overturned with the force of her moving him so that he laid on his back rather than the side facing away from her.

Lifeless eyes stared back at her. Recoiling in horror, she scrambled away from him, almost placing herself directly back into the crossfire. Suddenly it dawned on her. _Riesa._

_Where was Riesa?_

She remembers seeing six storm troopers in the others mind, yet in the room there were only five. “Riesa.” She gasped, hurtling herself from the carnage and running into the main body of the building.

There she was, positioned in the middle of the room, hands grappling at the broad arm wrapped around her throat from behind. A figure in white stood behind her, his blaster aimed at the side of her head. Her eyes dropped to Riesa, the Hapan was shaking, her lip trembling but her eyebrows were furrowed in vicious anger which threatened to boil over. Rona’s blaster was aimed towards the soldier, she breathed in deeply, steadying here hand. The Stormtrooper arm tightened further around Riesa’s neck, her nails were biting and scratching the armour but it did little to affect its pristine condition. “Lower your weapon rebel scum.”

She inhaled. “No.” The trigger was pulled. She exhaled.

There was a clatter of a body hitting the floor after the metallic swish of the blaster shot. Riesa remained standing, her arms held against her chest, shaking violently. The storm trooper was reduced to a bundle of tangled limbs, looking like a discarded toy. A scorch mark was burned through the centre of its helmet; marring the pristine white with a gash of black.

“G-Good aim.” Riesa’s voice hitched. Rona let the baster clash to the floor as she raced over to Riesa.

“Are you alright?” She questioned, cupping the Hapan’s face between her palms, checking her face for any signs of damage. Riesa shook her head fiercely, a reassuring smile slowly forming upon her lips.

Heavy boots rattled against the floor.

She realised that there was not as many rebels as there were when the night began. Rona and Riesa held onto one another as the rebels slowly filtered through

“Get the transport ready, we need to leave immediately!” Jamila ordered, her glowing skin wane and sunken. She limped out of the door.   

The Togruta- _Maakti_ , an inner voice supplied- came up to them. His eyes were no longer cold and calculating. “You should come with us, we can offer you protection…”

“But what about Obarel?” Riesa countered, her eyes hopeful, “He can protect us.”

Rona looked at her friend, admiring her innocent naivety. “He’s dead Riesa.”

“More Stormtroopers will turn up here, the place will be overrun. We can take you back with us.” Maakti continued. He didn’t phrase it as a question, he was ordering not asking but the choice was still theirs.

Riesa had gone into herself but when Rona glanced at her for confirmation she nodded her head. “Alright.” Rona supplied. Maakti told them to run

So she did.

* * *

The storm of violence had ebbed to nothingness, now the silence was as desolate as the barren blanket of fields outside. When her ears became accustomed to the lack of sound, with only rhythmic breathing filling the air, she allowed herself to sink into the chair on the transport.

She wanted to distract herself. Create distance. She described.

The transport was an old model, it was rusty and groaned at every sharp turn or bump. There were four seats to a row and three rows in total, the four seats were separated into two. Rona sat on the window seat with Riesa at her side, the two residual seats opposite them remained empty- a reminder of what had been lost.

The rebels hadn’t spoken to them since they boarded the transport, and that was a couple of hours ago. They didn’t know where they were going. The dark cover of night obscured the landscape of Dantooine from view but she knew what she would see. Dantooine had once been a place for her to bury her memories and live a normal life. But now she didn’t want to forget, she didn’t want to settle for normality. She had potential… potential for something more. Perhaps something great. Maybe that’s what Master Yoda had seen in her all those years ago.

She drank in the silence, let it caress her. Rona scanned Riesa’s face for a reaction, unspoken words hung in the air like a suspended moment. She expected her friend’s resolve to crumble, for her wail or dissolve into tears at the loss of her ordinary life, but she did none of those things. Instead she opened her mouth and spoke, “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“A friend taught me.”

“Must’ve been a talented friend.”

Rona nodded, “Yeah he was.”

There was a pause where the conversation became stagnant with old memories. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, where the sound of the wind whipping around the transport replaced the need to talk. Rona’s gaze was fixed at a spot on the bottom of the floor, her body rocking back and forth with the movements of the vehicle as it manoeuvred over rough terrain.

Riesa turned to look at Rona for a moment. To really look for once. To analyse her friend and see the scars that lie beneath, healed slowly by time and distance.

The dark circles under her eyes reflecting her lack of sleep. The lack of laughter lines and wrinkles illustrating how little she revelled in delight. The pale skin depicting how she has spent most of her life in the shadows. The locked jaw reflecting the cost of burying such pain in her bones, making them tough and study- removing the softness of youth from her face. Riesa felt like she was reading a chapter out of a novel, one that was branded on her friends face as a reminder of a past Riesa knew nothing of. She longed to hold her friend, to protect her from the demons that lived in the wake of her dreams. To be her support and the person she would confide in.

She looked at Rona’s light blue eyes, they always looked so soft and impassive but now she could understand the undercurrent of emotion brimming under the surface. Rona’s appearance was disheveled now. War-torn. She had abrasions on her face and arms from where the exploding glass had cut her skin and her clothes were covered with debris. Her brown hair that was stained slightly lighter from the summer sun was in disarray, the small singular braid behind the ear that always intrigued Riesa was almost falling from the fastened bun atop her the crest of her head.

 “Rona’s not your real name is it?” Riesa whispered.

The other’s eyes broke away from the spot that had captivated her attention, turning to regard the Hapan. Her face softened at the open steadfastness of her friend. “No it’s not.”

Riesa sighed in fatigue, resting her head on Rona’s shoulder, “What’s your real name?”

A pause.

A shaky inhale.

Resignation.

“Naya.”

“That’s a pretty name.” Riesa smiled, closing her eyes as she burrowed her head further into her friends reassuring heat.

The other smiled, resting her head atop of Riesa’s. “Thank you.” She let her eyes drift close, the silence comforting and allowed the rocking motion to send her off into a quiet slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright lads what surname should we have for Jamila, Kuv and Maakti? They will all play a large part in the story later on. Obviously because we’ve never seen a rebel academy or training grounds, the new few chapters are going to quite difficult to write so if you have any suggestions, feel free to drop them. Also those spotting the Handmaid’s Tale and Kite Runner parallels then kudos to you. This chapter has been one of my favourites as a whole so far so thanks for reading. Btw if anyone wants to BETA then just drop me a message, it would be appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Light shone through the dust-stained window. It felt warm on her face, like a gentle caress- a lover’s hand- waking her from her slumber.

It felt like hope. A new beginning.

Sunlight filled the sky, pure scattered light; its hue illuminating the green fields and giving each tree a golden halo. It started very subtle, as it the sun was afraid to rise. But, bit by bit, it shone a pearlescent haze and covered the inside of the transport with a pale, pure golden light.

“Good morning Naya.”

_Naya_. For a moment she panicked until last night memories flittered through her mind and she relaxed, “Good morning, Riesa.” It felt like a dam had been broken, the water gushing out, finally free from oppressive man made constraints. Able to make it’s own path towards the ocean.

For years she had referred to herself as Rona, whether it be out loud or in her head, it was always Rona. For once, she wanted to be honest with herself; to not hide behind false pretences, a past-less façade. _My name is Naya- My name is Naya- Naya- Naya- Naya is my name._ It felt exhilarating, she felt stronger, more self-assured like her identity was finally clicking into place _. I am_ _Naya Corona._

She realised Riesa had been speaking that whole time and struggled hastily paid attention, hoping her momentary lapse in concentration had gone unnoticed.

“My full name is Tilanriesa.” Riesa yawned tired, still caught in the cusp of sleep, “my mum chose it but Dad hated it so always called me Riesa. Mum always had the last word though.”

“I can imagine.”

Riesa chucked then her expression became serious once again, “Your accent… You don’t sound like you’re from the Outer Rim. You sound like you’re from one of the Core Worlds.”

“I grew up on Coruscant.”

“Are you from like one of those rich families and had like people training you to defend yourself in case you got kidnapped and used as ransom?”

“Something like that…”

“Mother of Moons! Really?”

Naya nodded.

“That’s… That’s defiantly something…” She trailed off, “What happened to them?”

“They’re dead- It’s just me now.”

Riesa didn’t offer any apologies, for that Naya was thankful- she didn’t want any sympathy, many others had lost much more. When Naya look in Riesa’s eyes all she saw was understanding. Naya knew the answer but asked anyway, “What happened to your family?”

“Same as yours.” She stretched out her aching muscles and sat up straight in her seat, her back popping as she did so. “Only me now, we can be alone together.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Naya’s eyes drifted back to the window, her eyes fluttering closed once again.

* * *

_She was drinking tea. Naya didn’t remember how she got there or why she was there but she sat, cross legged at the edge of a cliff face, sipping tea from a china cup. Long grass roared in waves around her, flowing with the strong sea breeze. The scent of salt filled her nostrils and she inhaled greedily. Closing her eyes, she revelled in the cool breeze. A soft kiss was plated on the top of her head and she smiled at the warm feeling, looking up into green eyes that glinted back playfully at her. “Good Morning.” The figure spoke, moving away from her to enter a circle of flattened grass. He withdrew a lightsaber from his belt, green light surged from one end, then the other. He broke the handle into two, separating the dual blade into separate weapons, and swung them around- testing their weight._

_Her heart raced, though not in fear but something else entirely._

_Discarding her tea, she picked up her lightsaber. The blue ember flaring to life, “You ready, old man?”_

_“Remember what I taught you, don’t leave your left side open and put your weight into your swings._

_That’s when it dawned on her. It was Master Tiris, her current consciousness supplied, though her dream self-remained oblivious to the sudden revelation._

_It was as if she was viewing the scene as a third party hiding in the heavens, looking down upon the two sparring. No- Dancing. Their movements were coordinated to perfection, levelling out one another and creating an easy balance between attack and defence._

_Naya was in awe of the other Naya, her skill and her strength and what appeared to be her ability to out-wit Tiris. Then she was back down on solid ground, lightsaber in hand, smiling up at Tiris; feeling the thrill of the force flowing through her veins._

A sudden jolt made her eyes flow open. Naya’s heart jarred in her ribcage. Jamila shouted that they were five minutes away from the base whilst something was drumming relentlessly on the roof of the transport. A quick glance out of the window revealed that it was raining. It fell steadily, ruthlessly; a startling low rumble accompanied the patter of the torrent to create a consuming symphony of sound. Mist began to curl around the trees, thickening into a dense fog in the distance; obscuring the rest of the landscape from view. The diffused grey light of a darkening sky had overthrown the golden hue that Naya had awoken to.

She could still feel the thudding weight of a lightsaber in her hand, it felt uncomfortably real.

The transport lurched to a stop. There was a solemn silence as the crew stepped off of the vehicle, the loss of their comrades a throbbing ache in their minds. The sun didn’t even dare to break through the dark clouds, deciding instead to hide in the safe security of the heavens.

She felt eyes on her.

Like a feral dog, her hackles stood on edge. She turned her body cautiously and turned to see three figures standing at the mouth of a hanger, facing towards Naya and the rest of the crew. They were eclipsed in fog and wore thick clothing, hats and heavy coats obscuring their identity.

 “Who are they?” Naya asked to anyone listening, her eyes unmoving from the dark silhouettes. Something felt odd, something in the force she hadn’t felt in a long time. Too long to understand it.

Maakti turned his head up in the direction Naya was looking, “Shit.” He mumbled, “They’re the people who are about to skin us alive.” The Togruta sighed, unloading the last bag from the transport whilst slinging a rucksack over his shoulder.

Kuv rolled his eyes but his expression remained forlorn in the dim rain, “That’s General Jan Dodonna, Chancellor Mon Mothma and Commander Tvec Korynn.”

“What do they do?” Riesa piped up, using the back of her wrist to wipe the wet strands of blonde hair clinging to her forehead.

Kuv spoke again, “Chancellor Mothma is the leader of the Alliance and the first chancellor of the New Republic. The General is the military leader and the Commander is part of the military as well, they’re both great with tactics and strategy. The Commander is notoriously difficult to beat in a fight, so I would advise not provoking him.”

“I wasn’t planning on.” Riesa retorted, confusion marring her words.

“Well, you may when you meet him. You may be bored to violence.” Kuv said with no humour at all.

The people on the transport has siphoned off, leaving only Jamila, Kuv and Maakti remaining.

“You must have travelled like an awful long way from here to get to us.” Riesa uttered, catching Jamila’s attention.

Jamila sighed, looking up from her data-pad, “We were negotiating with the field owner near you about expanding our base and building some hangers on his field. But seeing as the Stormtroopers now know of that location, the idea is no longer feasible. Which is what I’m going to have to inform the Chancellor of now.”

Riesa looked downtrodden. “I mean, it’s not all bad, you know. You have us now.” The base was gradually filling up with more and more people swarming around attending their duties; all of them were wearing different uniforms of a variety of colours and styles, though they all had the Alliance logo embroidered onto the fabric.

“Lieutenant Tura, please escort these two women to the recruitment centre, I’m sure something can be found to make them useful.” Jamila spoke to Maakti, dismissing them with a wave of her hand.

“Yes Major.” Maakti nodded quickly.

“Major Hartfield, a word?” One of the three observers had walked up towards them, though the other two remained at a distance, obscured from view by the rain and mist.

“Of course, General.” Jamila spared one last glance at Naya and Riesa before walking off with General Jan Dodonna, moving to join the Chancellor and the Commander. Naya felt cold, cold at the abrupt manner that Jamila had treated them and the way they had suddenly become helpless, reliant now only Maakti’s hospitality.

Maakti looked around, wishing to distance himself from the two women, “Kuv I have better things to do, do you mind taking these two to the recruitment centre?”

“Of course, Sir.” Kuv agreed, signalling for Naya and Riesa to follow him through the crowd. The Twi’lek didn’t look like a conventionally masculine male member of the species. His Lekku was raised high upon the crown on his head and was pushed back behind his shoulders, secured with a red headpiece. Though his ears were rounded, rather than cone shaped and were not hidden by the red material, which differentiated him from the female Twi’lek’s. His Lekku trailed down to his waist and were wringed subtly with a slightly darker blue than his skin tone, framing his lean but muscular body.

“So… It’s Rona and..?” The Twi’lek questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Riesa.”

“Rona and Riesa, well welcome to the Rebel Alliance base.” He spoke with forced enthusiasm, “This base is where the High Command is located. They direct all Alliance military forces in a coordinated effort.” He recited this, like it had been memorised to perfection from overuse. “There’s a new recruit seminar happening at 0900 hours.” He halted, standing before the hangar. “This is where I must leave you- I have my duties to get back to. Just go inside and say you’re a new recruit and they’ll get you sorted.”

“Thank you, Kuv.”

He smiled brusquely, “No worries, take care. And good luck.”

Then they were alone.

Naya and Riesa stood there, frozen for a moment at the sheer dramatic change that had occurred in the past 24 hours. They then looked at one another. Glanced at the hangar, then back at each other. In unison, they gingerly paced towards the hangar.

* * *

There was a small reception desk before the gaping mouth that opened to reveal the main body of the hangar. It was a storage hangar, that much was apparent, with boxes strewn to the sides and old speeders gathering dust in the corners. There were line upon line of chairs facing towards a raised podium. The room was packed, with many recruits already filling most of the chairs and conversing noisily. They walked up to the desk and spoke to the woman there smiling pleasantly at them.

“Um, Major Jamila sent us, we’re new recruits.” Riesa spoke hesitantly.

“Major Hartfield? That’s impressive, you’ve already made an impression and it’s not even your first day.” She laughed pleasantly. “Here are your uniforms, refreshers are just over there where you can get changed.” They were handed plastic wrapped uniforms and ushered away.

There were rows of ‘freshers, each with a symbol of a drop of water on its door. The rooms were separated, holding a shower, toilet and sink in each.

The mirror projected a slightly misted version of herself, condensation from her shower clouding the reflection. Glossy metal stuck out from the bundle of clothes on the floor, attached to a thin leather belt. Naya picked it up, admiring the contours of the lightsaber; the contrast between black and silver, before she decided to strap it around her hip. The uniform given was shapeless and unrestrictive enough to conceal the weapon underneath it.

She covered her body with a light brown jumpsuit that was cut at the shoulders to reveal a blue long sleeved shirt underneath. Encircling her waist was a black belt with the Rebel Alliance insignia that had an empty blaster holster attached to it. Comfortable knee high black boots covered her feet. She tied her hair up into a high bun, glancing one last time in the now clear mirror before she moved to pick up her clothes, tossing them into the disposal bin.

Chancellor Mothma stood on the podium, speaking in hushed tones to a row of five senior leaders behind her. Naya and Riesa took their seats in one of the first few rows and waited for the speech to begin.

There was different branches of work. Engineering, sanitation, tactical, culinary, military, administration, programming… The Chancellor had spoken about each branch in turn, and had finished her speech by directing everyone’s attention to officers dotted around the hangar, holding signs that read what branch they were representing. Time to decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not a lot happening this chapter. It was a very long chapter but I decided to break it into two, so chapter 5 will be along shortly. Please Kudos and comment! Love, Grandma Crab


	5. Chapter 5

“My name is Sergeant Kip.” He spoke with a southern drawl, “and I will be going through the basics with you today before handing ya’ll off to Commander Korynn. Instructors like the Commander are of the highest calibre and have been selected and trained to the uppermost standard specifically to train you the best so we can crush the Galactic Empire. If you want to be a field rebel, then you have to pass a certain amount of tests before we put you into full training. Ya’ll have to show you have potential.”

“As you have decided to join the military branch of the Rebellion, you will focus on physical fitness, weapon handling and field craft, but also understanding in Rebel terminology and technology, drills, first aid and map reading. We have stage one training- Alpha and stage two- Bravo. All Pilots, Military and Naval personnel will be together for Alpha stage, then you will break off and choose what your focus will be for Bravo stage. Now in Bravo stage there will be field duty so we have to get you ready for that in Alpha stage. Understood?” There was a chorus of _yes, sir‘s_ and nods of affirmation.

 “Alright, Cadets, come with me. We have a small firing range out back. Basically if you can hit the target in the head or chest then we’ll take you. We’re a bit desperate” He chuckled, “Then we’ll test you in agility and finally combat today to see how good ya’ll are. If you don’t pass we can always transfer you to another branch that suits you better.”

He continued. “This is a common DH-17 blaster pistol that fires a compressed, but focused, high-energy particle-beam that is _very_ destructive, so make sure ya’ll be careful. This one overheats real quick, so mind your hands.” He held up the pistol higher than necessary for all to see. “Now I want all of you in a line and we’ll do the target practice one by one. This pistol has a standard power pack which supplies enough energy for one hundred shots. There are twenty of ya’ll here so you get five shots each. Make em’ count.”

“This is my friend Dennis,” He pointed towards a holographic target, “and I want ya’ll to shoot the shit out of him.” This earned a few forced snickers from the nervous cadets. The projected target was of a torso and head, the blue lines were clear and defined, not shaky or fuzzy like previous holograms Naya had seen. Behind it was a large mound of earth, used to catch the bolts of energy, the soil blackened with the remains of many years of use. “He will record all of your scores and I will see them on my little data-pad here. I will give you all a number when it’s your time and I will learn your names later if you prove that you’re worth learning em’.” He was silent for a moment, allowing his words to sink in fully before continuing.

“Alright, Cadets, let’s go. Number one, you’re up.”

* * *

Naya was number thirteen and Riesa was number sixteen, having got caught up behind Naya in the rush to form a line. Their clothing was beginning to stick to their skin due to the continuous light rain. A haze of mist clung to the surroundings of the base, making it even more difficult to hit the target. The wind was picking up, pulling the bolts of energy off course and making its impact weaker on the target.

The rain droplets trailed like beads of sweat down their faces, mixing with and concealing actual perspiration.  The ground squelched with each step they moved up the line and the drumming of blaster bolts ricocheted in their ears, leaving them ringing even when the shots stopped when the weapon was switched from person to person.

Hesitantly, Naya took the weapons into her grasp when it came to her turn. The pistol was still warm and was clammy other hands previously holding it, not just the rain. She held up the weapon, aimed at the heart.

She inhaled. The trigger was pulled. She exhaled.

It hit the target faultlessly. Air rushed in through her nose as she took in another deep breath and aimed for the head. Two shots were fired this time, both landing in the centre of ‘Dennis’’ face. Her hand flew back down to aim at the targets chest and she fired the last two remaining bolts, the energy hitting the same spot on the target one after the other.

A cathartic sense of achievement filled her bones as she handed the pistol to the person behind her with a quick smile.

Naya continued to watch the recruit’s fire at ‘Dennis’, standing with the other finished cadets where they had grouped together. Riesa’s turn was swiftly approaching. The blonde took the pistol hesitantly, her hands shaking with anticipation, the cold making them tremble more severely.

Riesa missed the first shot.

She hissed through clenched teeth at her mistake, switching the blaster to her other hand so she could wipe her sweaty hand on her jumpsuit. Riesa’s hand twitched as she adjusted her hold on the weapon, wrapping her fingers more securely around the tepid metal. The Hapan aimed again, focusing the firearm on the torso of the target.

The wind was picking up and the rain followed suit, sweeping in a sideways motion, hitting them in their backs. Riesa pulled the trigger again and the shot grazed the shoulder of the target. It was obvious that she had never fired a blaster before though her aim was fairly reasonable considering it was her first time. But fairly reasonable wasn’t going to help her pass this test. She had potential, Naya could see it, she just needed the others to see it too.

The force flowed from the ground into Naya’s body, rising into the tips of her fingers. She raised her hand slightly to waist level rather than having it hanging limp at her side and aimed it in Riesa’s direction.

Riesa squeezed the trigger.

Naya’s fingers twitched.

The blaster bolt landed directly in the targets heart and Riesa flashed a smile, aiming once again but at the targets head. Two flashes of blue light spurt from the barrel of the pistol, Naya’s hand flicked up once again, the energy blasting through the forehead with the first and the bridge of the nose with the second.

Riesa practically threw the pistol at the person behind her, desperately trying to conceal her delight, and ran up towards Naya. The Hapan gave the other a tight-lipped smile, hiding her joy in an attempt to maintain a sense of professionalism.

Next on the menu was the agility and obstacle courses. They passed with a blur of heavy breathing and strained muscles. Naya had simply move on impulse and drive, rather than coherent thought, the time spent running through, over, under and around obstacles was fragmented in her memory. At that point, exhaustion had begun to settle in and fatigue wracked her bones. Sergeant Kip used terms like ‘belly buster, reverse climb, weaver, hip-hop, balancing logs and island hopper’ to describe the obstacles but Naya described them as living hell. When Sergeant Kip announced that the agility part of the test was over, there was a collective exhale of shattered relief.

* * *

Once lunch had been gathered and consumed, they were instructed to re-group back in the military training base. The recruits had gathered into a cluster, standing so that they face Sergeant Kip.

The Sergeant stopped looking around abruptly, focusing his attention on one person, confusion marred his features and his brow was pulled tight- it wasn’t the person he had expected to arrive. “My apologies, Major, I thought Commander Korynn was to be taking over?”

It was Jamila. Her clothes were changed from earlier, no longer causal and relaxed, instead she wore a thick jacket with a rebel insignia on the arms and a scowl on her features. “Unfortunately not, the Commander has been called out on some urgent business and will be detained for quite some time, so General Dodonna has asked me and Lieutenant Tura to take over for now.” She spoke diplomatically but there was a hint of hostility in her tone that made Naya question whether Jamila had chosen this consensually and of her own free will.  

The Sergeants frown hadn’t lessened and Jamila found it necessary to assure him. “Do not worry yourself, Sergeant Kip, the cadets will be trained to a high standard even without the Commander”-She let a small amount of contempt drip off the last word- “myself and the Lieutenant are perfectly capable of training them for now. Commander Korynn is expected back in a week or so.”

Sergeant Kip let out a sigh of relief, accidently expressing his lack of faith in the Majors abilities. Jamila’s gaze hardened, though the Sergeant remained oblivious to the response his auditory blunder had provoked in Jamila, she continued, tone clipped and abrupt, “That will be all Sergeant.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He addressed the recruits, “Good luck, Cadets!”

* * *

They walked into an open field. The dew on the grass made their boots slide with each step, the sweat and rain clinging to their bodies gave the impression their uniforms were a second skin. Riesa felt dirty and tired, more rushed off her feet than she had ever been. But the strain in her muscles felt rewarding, like she had accomplished something in the strenuous workout, and that ache pushed her onwards. She ignored the squelch inside her boot with every fall of her feet and marched ahead of the other recruits to join Naya. There were bamboo stick strewn about the field and Riesa went to stand near the closest one.

“Pair up.” Jamila shouted across the field, making everyone scramble to abide her order quickly. Riesa hooked her arm around Naya’s, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips.

“Now it’s more difficult to fight someone with an object that to just fight with your fists. This requires more skill and practice. I want to see how your co-ordination is not only in hand to hand combat but also with weapons like this.” She picked up a bamboo staff. “There are many strikes, blocks and spins which you will learn in time. There is a low block, side block, overhead block, pressing block, cross strike, down strike, hook strike, low strike, front spin, shoulder spin, palm spin, neck spin, and many more that I could list off to you. Though I want to see what you can do with intuition alone.

First, measure the distance between you and your partner. Do this by holding the staff in your hand and crossing it in the middle with your partners, that about how far away you should stand to begin with. I will go through a few Kata’s with Lieutenant Tura, pay very close attention to the movements. I will not repeat myself.”

The Major went through examples of attack and defensive positions and techniques, going through them each two times; once exceptionally slowly and the next at a normal fighting pace. The moves weren’t intricate, they were basic but effective, something that would have been taught to a Jedi initiate far before the padawan stage. Naya had seen them all before and, as the excitement brew in the other cadets, she couldn’t help but feel a saddened sense of nostalgia.

She could almost imagine her Master in their place, teaching her some intricate move that she had no hope of perfecting. But then she remembered his reaction when she had done something right for once; had done what he’d asked her to do, how he would look at her with something akin to fondness gracing his features. How he’d look almost proud. And how her heart would swell with pride and she’d feel this consuming _rightness_ at being Tiris’ padawan. As if fate had brought them together. Then she’d ruin it by messing up another move or not being able to connect with the force and he’d revert back to his old self. All cold and detached, looking down upon her as if she were his burden to bare. And she’d whisper, “Sorry, Master” and the cycle would repeat.

Naya shook her head, dispelling the memories. Focusing her attention, once again, back on the present. “No point thinking about a dead man.”

“What was that?” Riesa asked, looking upon her friend with confusion and worry. _Had she spoken aloud?_ She hadn’t meant to, so caught up in her own headspace that she couldn’t distinguish between her actual voice and the narrative in her head.

“N-nothing, sorry.” Naya whispered, casting an apologetic look towards Riesa. Having the adverse effect of making her frown deepen than relieving her of her worry. Maakti was glaring towards them as Jamila spoke and Riesa and Naya soon hushed their words, not wishing to anger or disrespect the Togruta further through incessant chatter.

“Lieutenant Tura will come round and mark your skill and handling of the weapon.” Jamila finished on her demonstration, her voice clipped as she motioned for Maakti to begin circling the recruits.

They practiced the movements slowly. Riesa picked up the stick as soon as Jamila finished speaking and Naya watched pensively at the other pairs around her that had begun to practice. Her bamboo staff was already coated with a thin layer of mud where it had been lying on the sodden ground. She dispelled the lingering negative emotions into the force, closing her eyes to relax her body. Now was not a time to be sad about the past.

A liberating sense of euphoria whipped up her spine as she clasped the weightless lumber in her palm. Naya gave it an experimental twirl, raking the databank of memory in her mind that holds her knowledge on quarterstaff combat.

An irritated voice brought her out of her musings. “Do you two have something better to chat about when the Major is speaking?”

Both recruits froze, looking towards Maakti guiltily. Riesa shot Naya a wary look before replying, moving subtly closer to the other. “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

If Maakti acknowledged their apology, he didn’t show it, instead he fixed them with a glower and moved onto the next pair of recruits.

Riesa let out a sigh and her shoulders slumped into a more relaxed position. “Were you even listening to what the Major was saying? And don’t say you were because I saw that faraway look you had, the one where you’re thinking about something completely different and not paying attention.”

“It’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing- I have experience with staff fighting.”

“Well I don’t!” Riesa whined, holding her staff hopelessly in front of her

“I can show you, if you’d like?”

Riesa’s lips quirked as she looked at her friend fondly, “Of course you can, Naya knows everything.”

Naya flashed her a grin and twirled the staff around herself, increasing the speed with each rotation which made the bamboo give off a whistling sound as it bit against the air “Firstly, ignore what Major Hartfield just taught, the moves are basic and boring. How about we try something different?” She brought the staff to an abrupt halt.

A bark of laughter escaped Riesa and she nodded eagerly at trying something different.

“Watch me, follow my steps.”

* * *

“You’re a quick learner.” Naya was impressed, Riesa caught on with how to block Naya’s attacks very swiftly, moving with the stick as if it were an extension of herself.

“I’m quite smart, you know.” The Hapan retorted, a toothy smile gracing her lips as she basked in the praise.

“That isn’t what I taught you.” Neither of them had spoken and they froze for a moment, perplexed, before the voice registered and they spun around. It wasn’t a question, and Jamila didn’t seem too impressed.

Naya sucked the air in sharply through her nose, lowering her staff. “No, Ma’am it isn’t.”

“And why’s that?”

Naya stumbled to find her words “…I have a little bit of training in staff combat, I was just showing Riesa what I know.”

“Well then, teacher” Jamila bit out the last word, sarcasm staining her lips, “why don’t you show me?” The Major took Riesa’s staff from her hands, twisting it experimentally, tilting her head up towards Naya in a silent challenge.

They circled one another, the tension was palatable. It was indistinguishable who lunged first but Jamila made it overtly obvious that she had no intention of going easy. A violent clack echoed when the staffs collided ferociously. The contact ricocheted through Naya’s arms, her skin and muscles shaking with the impact, for a moment making them feel weak and unstable before she steeled herself and her bones.

Jamila concentrated on her attack and let her muscles setting into the rhythm of their dance. That is what it looked like- a dance. Their bodies moved like liquid, fluidly, following the movements of the blows and clashes with a twirl of their staffs and an altered stance.

After several minutes of trying to get past Naya’s defences, Jamila grew impatient and her blows became heavier and more challenging to repel. The Major had expected a quick defeat and easy humiliation, not an equal opponent; her attacks that would usually render an opponent inert in a matter of minutes only seemed to have the adverse effect of Naya, who matched them with an ease that was slowly becoming worrisome.

The crowd of recruits who had been practicing around them, oblivious to the dual, gradually became transfixed by the dance. The clatter and clang of their unskilled practice became completely silence, and the air only rang with the shill singing of the two colliding staff’s. Their moves were matched, balanced.

Thrust.

Parry.

Riposte.

The blows never landed as the other fended them off, an equilibrium forming between the two skilled fighters and the intensity enough to leave Maakti gaping at them.

Something told Naya to not fight to her full potential. To not put all her eggs into a singular metaphorical basket. So she backed off, made her moves sloppy, unsophisticated, with little thought. She felt the blow, the whip of air across her ear before the pain registered. It settled deep in her shoulder, stinging and aching. Burning. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Panic flooded her veins. _Control your emotions..._ a small voice whispered. It was Master Tiris, it was always Tiris.

She swallowed the pain, looked towards Jamila, and conceded with a nod. The dual had ended.

There was silence for a few moments. “You’re good. Better than I expected.” The Major paused, eyes slipping from Naya’s gaze as she contemplated something in her head. It might have been nothing more than Naya’s imagination, but she through she saw the faintest hint of pride in Jamila’s eyes before her stare had drifted. But then Jamila looked back at Naya and scowled. “You train with me. Tomorrow. 0800 hours.”

“Yes, Major.”

Jamila turned towards the other recruits, “Sergeant Kip will now give you your score. I look forward to seeing many of you soon, group combat training with Lieutenant Tura and myself is at 1400 hours. Everyday.” She added for surety before leaving the building with a final parting nod towards Sergeant Kip.

Out of the group of twenty, eighteen passed, including Riesa and Naya. Sergeant Kip told them to go back to their quarters for a goodnights rest before training at 0900. Riesa looked at her score and a grin broke out of her facing, lighting up her features and brightening her eyes. Her hair a golden halo reflecting the warm sunlight. “I got a medium pass. I passed!”

Sunlight. Naya suddenly realised, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, casting the grass in a warm amber light. The rain had ceased and suddenly things were looking brighter. Brighter in both senses of the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! I keep on having inspirations for later scenes and writing them down so it’s difficult to stay focused on one chapter at a time, hence why this is to be uploaded later than expected. Things are going to heat up soon and one of the main characters will be introduced, so hold on in there.


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